


5 times the pack almost finds out, and the one time they don't need to

by sterekanigans



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Minor Angst, Secret Relationship, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sorta... they just haven't gotten around to telling anyone yet, The Pack Finds Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterekanigans/pseuds/sterekanigans
Summary: Stiles and Derek didn't mean to keep their relationship a secret, but they just hadn't gotten around to telling anyone yet.These are the five times someone from the pack almost finds out, and the one time they don't need to.---“What are you still doing here?” he hears Stiles hiss. “What if my dad had walked in?” ‘I thought we weren’t trying to keep our relationship a secret?” the mystery person hisses back. “Yeah, except for from my dad. Because I’m still in high school, you’re you, and my dad’s the Sheriff!"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fluffy fun thing I wrote that turned out longer than planned!  
> Enjoy :)

**Scott**

“Thank god!”

Scott turns his head to see Stiles hurriedly shoving his chemistry textbook in his bag, the school bell still loudly ringing through the overhead speakers.

“Dude, why are you in such a rush?” Scott asks as he scrambles to grab his own bag and books- Stiles is already halfway to the door.

“Sorry Scotty boy but time waits for no man!”

“Stiles wait!” Scott rushes after Stiles, ignoring Harris’ glare as he passes by him. “Aren’t you coming over to my place to play COD? I just got the most recent edition!”

Stiles turns his head over his shoulder, an apologetic expression on his face. “Ah, sorry man,” he winces. “I totally forgot about that. And I’ve sorta already made plans with someone else?” He gives a small shrug and claps a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Maybe on the weekend?”

“Uh…. yeah sure.”

“Great! Thanks man, see you then!” With that, Stiles continues to push his way through the teeming crowd of students, all of who are trying to jostle their way to the front doors of the school, and to the promise of a school-free weekend.

Scott remains standing in the hallway for a moment, a frown crossing his face. Who could Stiles be meeting with? For as long as he could remember, Stiles had never blown off the chance to beat Scott at a video game. It was what they had spent most of their Friday afternoons doing, ever since third grade when Scott’s mom had found out what they had previously been spending their Friday afternoons- running around in the woods behind Stiles’ house. 

He supposes a lot had changed in this past year though, and somewhere along the way, so had Stiles. He’d become more subdued lately, more focused and controlled. Seeing him excited and happy again- that wasn’t something Scott was going to try and take away from him.

He shakes his head and makes his way outside, stepping around a small group of students gawking at a sleek black car. High schoolers and their cars… he just didn’t understand the obsession. Motorbikes seemed much cooler, if you asked him.

“Is that… Stiles Stilinski?” Scott hears one of them question wondrously.

He looks back to the car, only just noticing that it wasn’t any old sleek black car, but a Camaro belonging to a certain-

“Dude! That’s _Derek Hale!!_ ” One of the guys exclaims

Derek. So that’s who Stiles was meeting with, Scott thinks as he watches Stiles walk around to the passenger seat. But why? Must be research, he supposes. Stiles and Derek spent quite a bit of time together researching, comparing notes on the big bad of the week.

Stiles throws his bag into the car and clamber in. “Hey, thank god you’re here! Harris was droning on and on about petrol and Molotov cocktails, which we already have plenty of first-hand experience with. Bo-ring!”

Scott watches as Stiles leans in slightly and--Allison! Whipping his head around, he sees Allison walking with Lydia. “Yeah, I’m meeting up with Scott tomorrow, I’ve got a surprise for him,” Scott hears her say faintly.

‘Ugh you and lover boy. Come on, there are other things in the world apart from boys, so you and I are going to spend the afternoon together. I want you to teach me how to throw a knife properly.” With that, Lydia pulls Allison along to her car, Scott still staring at Allison’s bouncing hair.

If he’d been watching Stiles and Derek, he would have seen Stiles lean in and give Derek a quick kiss.

He would have seen Stiles pull back with a small smile and whisper ‘hi.’

Would have heard Stiles ask Derek ‘So what’s planned for date night, huh?’

Would have heard Derek’s reply, ‘We don’t have a date night Stiles,’ only for Stiles to say ‘Well we should,’ before speeding off together.

But in true Scott fashion, Allison’s mere presence had caused him to miss the exchange entirely.  

However, his classmates standing by him _did_ see the exchange.

“Damn, who knew Stilinski could hit that,” someone wolf-whistles.

“Hey, have you seen Stilinski recently? He’s totally sprouted. 10/10 would bang.”

“Janey! You have a boyfriend!”

“So? Make it a threesome! Or actually he could bring Hale and it’d be the foursome to end all foursomes!”

~~~

**Allison**

Allison pushes open the door, letting the warm air envelop her as she steps inside. She pulls her hood off as she takes in the warm hues of the restaurant, the laughter floating from the tables and the smell of freshly cooked pasta wafting throughout.

Making her way over to the counter, she passes by and nods at Mrs Jefferson, the sweet old lady who lives down the street.

“Pick up for Allison Argent,” she says politely to the guy behind the counter. He taps at the computer screen.

‘It’ll be a few more minutes. If you’d like to take a seat?” he gestures to a chair to the side.

Thanking him and sitting in the offered chair, Allison looks around the restaurant. She can see a young family in the corner, the parents fussing over their children and cutting their food for them, the mother batting her daughter’s hand away as she tries to pick at her food, the father smiling fondly at them.

Nearby, she sees an elderly couple slowly eating, murmuring to one another, caught up in their private world and oblivious to the crying baby a few tables away.

Next to them is a group of women, laughing loudly and rapidly knocking back wine. Then there’s the table with a young man and woman, tentatively smiling at one another. Allison watches as the woman accidentally bumps the man’s glass, who quickly catches it. The woman, now flustered, hurriedly apologises whilst the man reassures her. Must be a first date, Allison thinks.

As she looks around her and the various people enjoying themselves, she feels content. Everyone deserves this she thinks, the chance to sit back and simply relax with friends and family; most of all her own circle of friends, given the recent debacles they’ve been in.

“No, _ravioli_ is better than carbonara!”

Allison twists her head as she hears a familiar voice.

“Say what you want Stiles,” Derek shakes his head.

Stiles and Derek are tucked away into a corner booth, two plates of food sitting on the table in between them. They’re close enough though that Allison can hear what they’re saying.

“Well, I will, because I’m right! Ravioli is… pockets of pasta packed with whatever delicious filling you want! Carbonara is strings of pasta that are too long to eat easily, covered in raw egg! Why would you ruin pasta with _raw_ _egg?”_

“You put the egg on when the pasta is hot so it becomes cooked-“

“You know Der, just because you’re a werewolf, doesn’t mean you have to eat something raw with every meal.”

‘I just said that it’s not raw-“

“Still weird though.” Stiles is now waving his fork in Derek’s face, who’s sitting back and looking amused.

Allison considers going over and saying hi, but decides not the interrupt them and their truly scintillating conversation. They haven’t noticed her yet, caught up in themselves for the time being.

She wonders what they’re doing here. No doubt Derek didn’t have any food at the loft, _again,_ and Stiles demanded to be fed. Though she’s a bit surprised they haven’t gone to the diner with Stiles’ favourite curly fries, or somewhere else a little less… fancy.

“-Why do all restaurants have to use fake candles nowadays? It’s killing the romance! The romance Derek!” Stiles is saying as he picks up the electronic tea light. “Is anything even real anymore?”

“The flower is,” Derek replies, nodding at the single white rose sitting in the vase on the side of their table.

Stiles gets a mischievous light in his eyes as he reaches towards it.

“Stiles-“ Derek warns.

But Stiles is already placing the rose in the button hole of Derek’s jacket. Allison thinks Derek must be frowning, but when he looks back up, there’s a small smile gracing his lips.

“Ah young love,” Allison hears. She turns to see Mrs Jefferson standing by her side, looking at Stiles and Derek fondly. Allison shakes her head, because that’s just Stiles being Stiles. She’s pretty sure he’s tried to give her flowers at some point. She shifts to tell this to Mrs Jefferson, only to find that she’s already shuffling away.

She sighs and glances back at her friends. Stiles is now holding up a piece of ravioli on his fork, offering it to Derek. Derek, who’s sitting back, looking unimpressed and firmly holding his ground.

Stiles pouts as Derek refuses to budge.

Allison has to stifle a small laugh. She remembers Scott trying to do that with her. She’d given in, but she doesn’t get the feeling that Derek will.

“Allison Argent?”

She stands up and heads to the counter to collect her food, pulling her jacket closer as she prepares to brave the cold outside. She heads out without seeing Derek slowly lean in and gently bite the ravioli from Stiles’ fork, before giving a tender smile to Stiles. And she certainly doesn’t see the loving look on Stiles’ face.

~~~

**Isaac, Erica and Boyd**

“Remind me why I never get shotgun?” Isaac grumbles as he pulls himself out of the backseat of the car, joints cracking as he stretches.

“Because it’s my car, and I like Boyd better,” replies Erica, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “So suck it up scarf boy.”

“And why does Derek have to live on the top floor?” Isaac continues as he stares up at Derek’s apartment block.

“So he can sneak away in the dead of night like Batman!”

“That makes absolutely no sense Erica!”

“So he can parkour everywhere and show off,” says Boyd wryly.

Erica and Isaac turn to look at him.

“When we first met you, whoever would have thought that you had jokes? And now look at you!” Erica slings an arm around Boyd’s shoulders and pulls him forward as she heads towards the building.

“Hey, what’s Stilinski doing here?” Isaac points to the distinctive blue jeep sitting in the otherwise empty carpark.

Erica frowns. “Huh, who knows what Stiles is doing any of the time, but I suppose this would explain why his scent’s been hanging around the loft for a while now. Only one way to find out though.”

A comfortable silence descends as they make their way up the many stairs to the top floor.

“Are you guys glad you met Derek?” Erica asks softly on the third floor.

“You mean are we glad he gave us the bite?” asks Boyd.

“Well this walk would have been much more tiring without it,” replies Isaac.

“Seriously though, are you?”

There’s quiet for a moment after Erica’s question.

“Yeah.” It’s Boyd who pipes up.

“Even with all the battles, the monsters and the near constant danger?”

“It’s made life interesting,” replies Boyd. “Before, I was a nobody. Nothing ever happened, except for Jackson sneering at me from his Porsche whenever I got off the bus. And now, each week brings something new.”

His eyes flick over Erica and Isaac.

‘I was a nobody, and I had nobody,” murmurs Isaac. “My dad never let me have any friends, never let me spend time with them outside of school, so what few friends I did have quickly drifted away. And it sucked. But now,’ he swallows and glances at the ground, “I’ve got you guys.”

“Me too,” says Erica quietly. “No-one ever wanted to spend time with me, and now look at us.” She throws her arms wide and speaks up louder. “Now I’ve always got you two losers to drag with me to Derek’s loft to watch The Dark Knight.”

Their moment however is interrupted by a shout.

“AAHH- ahah- STOP THAT- ahah- DEREK STOP-ahaha!!” Stiles voice emanates from the loft, his shouts interspersed with laughs.

Erica yanks open the door just as Stiles jumps off Derek from where he’d been straddling him on the couch, away from his tickling hands.

Stiles would tell anyone who listened that he’d purely come over with the intent of telling Derek the latest snippet of information he discovered about kanimas, but even to his own ears his excuse sounds weak.

He knows he could just have texted or even called Derek to tell him, but instead he’d driven over immediately and spent two minutes telling Derek the news, before proceeding to lazily make out on the couch for half an hour. Or at least until Derek decided it would be more fun to tickle Stiles whilst nosing at his neck, at which point Stiles had tried valiantly to get away, succeeding just as he heard the door open.

Erica steps in, a single eyebrow raised at the scene before her. Derek sitting on one end of the couch, hair slightly rumpled, and Stiles sprawled at the other end, flushed and still laughing.

“What’s going on in here, huh?” she questions predatorily. “Is there something we should know about you two?”

“As if Erica,” drawls Isaac as he steps out from behind her, drawing her attention to him. As it is, they both miss the significant look Derek and Stiles cast at each other, silently deliberating. And if Boyd notices it, he doesn’t mention it.

“Like anyone would want Stilinski,” he continues.

“Hey!” Stiles says indignantly, snapping his head back to the trio. “Well good luck trying to find anyone to put up with you and your stupid scarves then!”

Derek sighs in the background and Boyd silently walks over and claims the armchair whilst everyone’s still squabbling.

“What are you guys doing here?” Stiles asks as he watches Erica move to the living room area.

She holds up the DVD. “Watching this, cause all of our TVs are either broken or being hogged by siblings. Wanna join?”

“Oooh The Dark Knight! I wish, but I’ve gotta get home and make dinner for my dad. Otherwise he’ll try take advantage of the Super Sunday meal deal down at Dianne’s diner. Have fun though.” With that, he grabs the books he’d dropped on the table, shoves his feet into his converses and ducks out the door.

Isaac doesn’t look sorry to see him go, merely heading over to plonk down on the couch in the recently vacated spot as Erica puts the DVD in. They make themselves comfortable as the opening scene begins to play.

For all that Derek’s betas claim to be observant and vigilant, none of them notice the deep red hickey peeking out from the neckline of Derek’s henley for the entire duration of the movie.

~~~

**Lydia**

Lydia pulls her gloves on, shielding her hands from the cold air. The lacrosse field is flooded with light, illuminating the players running warm up laps. In the stands, students and parents mill around as they wait for the game to start.

Tonight, it’s Beacon Hills vs Devonford prep and Lydia isn’t all too confident about their chances of winning. Devonford had smashed them in every single game in the past, but now that half of the Beacon Hills team consisted of werewolves, perhaps this game would be a little more… interesting.

She catches Jackson’s eye across the field and gives him a small smile and a nod.

“Good luck,” she murmurs, knowing he’ll hear it.

In the past, she would have demanded that he win, would have put pressure on him to maintain both their reputations. But now, after everything they’ve been through? Lydia understands the immense pressure Jackson already puts on himself, and she’s come to understand that reputation isn’t everything.

Jackson will understand the encouragement behind the nod.

She watches as he turns back to flinging balls with deadly accuracy into the net. Casting her eyes around the field, she searches for the people she’s come to call her friends, her pack.

Scott’s jogging along the side of the field, lacrosse stick in hand. Isaac and Boyd are with a huddle of other players, laughing about something and decidedly _not_ warming up. She narrows her eyes; she may not be placing pressure on Jackson anymore, but she would still very much like to win.

“Ahem.”

She gives a pointed cough in their direction, raising her eyebrows at them as Isaac and Boyd turn around. They shake their heads and sigh, before nudging their teammates and heading onto the field.

She then flicks her eyes to the bench to see- Stiles absent. Frowning, she glances around the field again, searching for any sign of Stiles jumping around.

Aha- there he is, by the corner of the bleachers that meet the woods. They’re not too far away so Lydia can hear Stiles’ voice drifting through the air. She can’t however make out who he is talking to, stepped just outside of the light and cloaked by the night.

“Thanks, but you know me- the only good luck I need is to get off the bench.” Stiles is saying as he waves a hand dejectedly.

He pauses, as his companion says something.

“Talented? No need to flatter me dude, I’ve long accepted my fate as the one god accidentally poured too much clumsiness into.”

He throws the lacrosse stick he’s holding to his other hand.

“Well… yeah but that’s different. When we’re fleeing from the latest supernatural creature, it is quite literally a matter of life and death. The prospect of death does tend to make one run a little faster.”

He shakes his head at whatever his companion says.

“We all help out when it comes down to it… me no more than anyone else in the pack. Once again, life and death situation, tends to inspire people to help out.”

Lydia sees him shrug.

“Yeah, I wish I was out there too, if only for my dad. He always tries to get time off to come watch the games, and all I ever do is sit on the bench with Greenberg.”

Stiles throws the lacrosse stick back to his other hand.

“Why do I still do it? Well, I guess it gives me a sense of normalcy, you know? Like even after everything that’s happened and everything that’s changed, this is still the same. I come on Friday nights and sit on the bench and cheer for Scotty, and then go home, all incident free. It calms me, knowing that somethings remain constant.”

He lets out a quiet laugh as his friend speaks.

“I keep forgetting you were a basketball jock! Knew you had a competitive streak in you!”

Lydia watches him pull a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly.

“Yeah, I know it’s just a game. And I need that, for it to be just a simple game.” He sighs. “You hanging around?”

The person must say no, because Stiles is then saying, “I’ll see you after then?”

Lydia raises her eyebrows in interest as Stiles leans forward and kisses the person, hand coming up to cup their jaw.

Huh. So Stiles _was_ seeing someone! She knew it. He’d be more withdrawn from her lately, brushing her off and blowing off their Bestiary-research plans.

It was good though, she supposed. It couldn’t have been healthy for him to have been obsessing over her for so many years. And she was glad to have him as a friend, to have someone so loyal, trustworthy and reliable.

But when Lydia finds out who the mystery person is, she will certainly be doing a background check and ensuring that they are worthy for Stiles.

“Lydia!”

Lydia turns and sees Allison approaching, the Sheriff and Mrs McCall in tow.

“Hey Allison!” She stands up and draws her into a quick hug before nodding politely at the parents.

“Sheriff, Mrs McCall, how are you tonight?”

“I’m good thanks, Lydia. Anyways, what are we thinking the odds are on this game? And any chance of Coach putting Stiles on the field?”

Lydia becomes swept up in their conversation, but if she hadn’t, she would have noticed Stiles parting with his companion and jogging back to the bench. She would have seen a man dressed in a distinctive leather jacket emerge from the shadow and make his way over to a black Camaro.

Later, she will berate herself for not putting it together faster. Who else would be hanging out at the edge of the woods on a Friday night? But for the present, she too is satisfied to merely sit back and enjoy a drama free lacrosse game (well of the supernatural kind at least).

~~~

**The Sheriff**

The Sheriff hangs up his jacket and kicks off his boots with a contented sigh. His day had been filled with a long, but unexciting chase of some kid who tried to steal that new iPhone from the one place in town which sold that sort of thing.

The result had been an hour long foot chase as the kid wove expertly through all the back alleys before ducking into the preserve. Then, when they’d finally found him, lost and a couple miles away from the old Hale house, they’d had to struggle for ten minutes to get him in the back of the cruiser.

And to top it all off, the deputy who would normally fill out this sort of paperwork had been off sick, leaving the Sheriff to fill out thirty pages of reports.

He locks his gun securely in the safe and heads over to the kitchen, wondering what sort of healthy concoction his son will have prepared for them that night.

He gets that Stiles is just looking out for his health, but damn he wishes he could just tuck into a good hearty steak every once in a while. Or every week. Or every night.

Sighing, he opens the oven, only to see it empty. That’s strange, normally Stiles prepares dinner and leaves it in the oven.  He pulls the fridge door open with a frown, wondering if it’s in there instead. Still empty.

Stiles must have forgotten, he thinks as he makes his ways towards the stairs. He can hear muffled noise coming from upstairs; Scott must be over playing video games- it wouldn’t be the first time Stiles had gotten caught up in video games and forgotten to do... well anything else.

Perhaps there would be a juicy steak from Dianne’s diner tonight after all.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he moves towards Stiles’ closed door, floorboards creaking beneath his feet. There’s so many things he wishes he could fix about this house, but unfortunately doesn’t have the time or money to do so. At the same time though, he wants to keep the house the same, fixed as it was in 2004.

However, his thoughts are interrupted by hushed whispers and scrambling sounds.

“How did you not hear him before?” he hears Stiles hiss. “What is the point of super hearing if _you_ _don’t use it?_ ”

“I’m sorry, but I was a bit _preoccupied_ thanks to a _certain someone!”_ The Sheriff stops in surprise before Stiles’ door. The other voice was masculine, but it certainly did not belong to Scott.

Then he frowns as his mind turns over the ‘preoccupied’ comment. If not Scott, who was in there with his son and what were they doing?

Settling his determined face, he raises his hand and knocks loudly on the door. “Son? You in there?”

“Er… just a moment!” he hears back frantically.

“There! There! Go!--- Hurry up!!” Muffled whispers follow.

The door opens. “Hey daddy-o!” Stiles says casually, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “What’s up? You’re… home early.” He sees Stiles wince as soon as the words leave his mouth.

The Sheriff merely raises a single eyebrow, taking in Stiles’ somewhat dishevelled appearance.

“Not that that has any impact on me whatsoever. Nope, none at all!”

“You forgot to make dinner,” he informs his son, trying to inconspicuously peer around Stiles to see his room. It seems pretty ordinary- a mess, as usual: papers and books strewn around, his lacrosse stick lying in the middle of the room.

He does note, however, that the door to Stiles’ closet is slightly ajar, and that there is an unfamiliar shirt lying on his son’s bed. And by that, he means it isn’t plaid or a graphic t-shirt.

Stiles’ eyes widen. “Aw crap.”

The Sheriff’s other eyebrow goes up.

“I mean aw… shucks? Well I guess we can always order from that healthy sushi place downtown.”

“Or you can let me get a steak from Dianne’s and I won’t question whatever was going on up here,” he waves around Stiles ‘empty’ room, “a few minutes ago.” At least not right now, he thinks.

Stiles flushes slightly. “Ah… yeah, that seems fair. I’ll be down in a sec.” With that, he slams the door shut.

“What are you still doing here?” he hears Stiles hiss. “What if my dad had walked in?”

‘I thought we weren’t trying to keep our relationship a secret?” the mystery person hisses back.

The Sheriff knows that voice, but he can’t quite place it.

“Yeah, except for from my dad. Because _I’m_ still in high school, you’re _you_ , and my dad’s the _Sheriff!_ There’s about _zero situations_ in which he would react well to this!”

The Sheriff frowns as he moves back towards the stairs. Perhaps he should have asked for a bigger bribe, if something this secretive was going on under his nose in his very own house. At the same time though, he was in no mood to deal with anything unexpected, and would much rather his steak thank you very much. 

Then again, perhaps Stiles would be surprised with the Sheriff’s reaction when he finally found out who that henley belonged to.

~~~

**+1**

“Mgph,” Stiles grunts as he drives the blade into the leg of one of the wendigos. Wrinkling his face in disgust, he tries not too think about the black goo leaking all over his jeans.  

He yanks the knife back out, watching the wendigo crumple to the ground in front of him.

“Sorry buddy,” he murmurs before placing a kick to the wendigo’s head, knocking him out.

After the incident with the trolls, Chris had decided to give everyone some weapons training, which was how Stiles had found himself carrying an array of knives, flash grenades and other various weapons in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night.

They were all grateful for it though- not only were the humans able to defend themselves, but the werewolves too had a greater arsenal of moves, instead of just whipping their claws across their offender’s face.

Glancing around the clearing, Stiles takes stock of the situation.

Of the initial four wendigos, only two remain. Erica and Lydia are teaming up on one, Lydia delivering well placed kicks whilst Erica just generally tries to tear the wendigo apart. Allison and Boyd are busy fighting the last remaining one; Allison skilfully twirling around with a knife in hand whilst Boyd holds the wendigo still. Then there’s the one lying unconscious by his feet, the black blood seeping into the surrounding dirt, darkening the ground. The fourth wendigo is lying a few feet away by the edge of the clearing, body rolled up motionless against the base of a tree trunk.

He wipes his eyes with the back of his sleeve, the cleanest part he can find, before hurrying over to Erica and Lydia.

“Oh no you don’t,” he says as the wendigo wrenches its arm free, rearing it back. Stiles grabs onto it, using his body weight to hold the arm back and allowing Lydia to knock it unconscious.

“Ugh,” he comments, sidestepping the wendigo as it falls backwards. Looking up, he sees Allison and Boyd finish off their wendigo.

They all look up at each other. “Are we all okay?” asks Stiles. Everyone answers variously in nods and grunts. They silently observe the clearing, only their breaths breaking the still air. The bright light of the full moon shines down, catching and gleaming off the teeth covering the wendigos as they lay unconscious on the ground.

They’re interrupted by Stiles’ phone ringing.

“Scott? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“We dealt with the three on our end,” Scott’s tinny voice comes though the phone. Stiles puts the phone on loudspeaker. “What about you guys?”

“We handled our four. Just waiting for Chris and his men to get here.”

“I just spoke to him- he’s on his way. Listen, Derek’s been badly hurt- one of the wendigos bit him and now he’s convulsing. We’re getting him to Deaton’s. Can you meet us there?”

Stiles' heart spikes at the sound of Derek’s name and he stares at the phone in shock. “What?”

“We’re coming Scott,” says Allison, taking the phone from Stiles, just as Chris rolls up.

“Go to the clinic,” he shouts at them through the window. “We’ll deal with this. Go!”

Lydia grabs Stiles’ hand and pulls him along to the car. “Let’s go.”

They hurriedly pile into the car and Lydia hits the accelerator.

Stiles’ hands are shaking as Lydia speeds down the road.

“Hey, hey, I’m sure it will be fine,” says Allison, reaching forward to still Stiles’ hands. “He’s an Alpha- he’s strong, he can get through this. And he’s got Deaton looking after him.”

Stiles remains silent. Lydia throws Allison a sympathetic look in the rear-view mirror. She presses down on the accelerator harder.

Stiles stares out the window.

Ten minutes later, they arrive at the clinic. Stiles is throwing himself out of the car before it’s come to a complete stop, sprinting towards the clinic.

Lydia scrambles to park the car and they all rush out.

“Derek!” Stiles pants as he rounds the corner to Deaton’s office. “Where is he?”

Scott and Isaac straighten up from where they were leaning heavily against the wall. “He’s through there,” says Scott, pointing. “He stopped convulsing a few minutes ago- turns out there was wolfsbane on the wendigo’s teeth, but Deaton managed to burn it out. He’s just recovering now.”

But Stiles has already run past, spying Derek lying still on the examination table.

“Derek!” he calls again as he stops at the table. Stiles can see the angry red bite marks on Derek’s forearm, but they’ve already begun to heal, the marks becoming fainter with each passing moment.

He traces his fingers gingerly over the mark before trailing his hand up to cup Derek’s face.

“Stiles?” Derek’s raspy voice breaks the air. His eyes flutter open as he sees Stiles, worried and scared.

“Derek,” he breathes out. “You’re alive.”

Derek blinks. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

Stiles cards his hand through Derek’s hair. “Thank god. For a minute I was worried that you… that you wouldn’t come through.”

“I’ll always try for you.”

“You scared me shitless.” Stiles is leaning over Derek, one hand pressed firmly above his heart, feeling it’s steady thrum, the other still running though Derek’s hair. Derek’s looking up at Stiles, one hand coming up to hold the hand against his chest. Neither of them notice the rest of the pack, including the Sheriff, pile into the room silently.

“I thought for a moment…. And I realised I wasn’t ready for that. There’s still so much I haven’t done with you, so much I haven’t had the chance to share with you, so much I haven’t _told_ you, and I wasn’t ready to let all that go.” Stiles lets out a shaky breath.

“I just- don’t ever do that to me again okay? Okay?” Stiles’ voice breaks the second time.

“Okay Stiles,” whispers Derek, squeezing Stiles hand tight.

And no one is surprised when Stiles leans down and kisses Derek.

~~~

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Comments and kudos much appreciated - there will be a thousand virtual hugs and kisses for you!!
> 
>  
> 
> -I know I played into every tw stereotype there is for our beloved characters, but I had to do it in at least one fic!


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